S. R. Praveen

Georgekutty, the protagonist of the Drishyam franchise, has the kind of baggage that perhaps few other onscreen criminals have carried. He is no natural criminal. Rather, his criminality is built upon his image of a complete family man, someone who goes to any lengths to protect his family. He does not revel in crime, though one can read some pride in him for always being a step ahead of the police. In Drishyam 3, writer-director Jeethu Joseph firmly places him in family situations for much of the runtime. Georgekutty (Mohanlal) is busy arranging the marriage of his elder daughter, Anju (Ansiba Hassan). Brokers come and go, and promising proposals fall through, with the family’s dark past remaining as a barrier to many. Some anonymous souls in the neighbourhood are also trying to spoil the marriage plans. The marriage itself is integral to the plot development. So much so that the film could have come with the tagline - The Story of an Arranged Marriage.

An almost archaic communication method takes center stage when the characters played by Mammootty and Mohanlal first make contact in Mahesh Narayanan’s Patriot, well into the film’s second half. It would seem apt in a way, hinting at the vintage quality of their association while also fitting well inside the theme of the film on digital mass surveillance. For that matter, the last time the duo came together in a film, almost two decades ago, digital surveillance was just an emerging public concern. Now, it seems rather ubiquitous, and Mahesh Narayanan appears fully taken in by the urgency to convey these fears to a larger audience. The two superstars are thus tools for this socio-political endeavour rather than the screenplay being in service of their star aura, as often seen in such star-studded movies.

At the centre of director Vishnu Aravind’s Madhuvidhu is a house where three generations of men live in harmony. Unlike the Anjooran household in Godfather (1991), women aren’t banned here; they simply choose not to come. For the protagonist, Amrithraj alias Ammu (Sharafudheen), 28 marriage proposals came through but not a single moved to the next stage. When a not-so-cordial first meeting with Sneha (Kalyani Panicker) inevitably turns into mutual attraction, things appear to change. However, some unexpected hiccups are waiting for them as they belong to different religions. Writers Jai Vishnu and Bipin Mohan don’t seem to have any major ambitions with Madhuvidhu, but they seem rather content to aim for the middle space of a feel-good entertainer. But even with that, they end up hitting further lower.

Subtlety has never been one of filmmaker Dijo Jose Antony’s core strengths, but even by his standards, the choices he makes in his fourth film, Pallichattambi, are quite odd. Like, the idea to introduce a much-feared antagonist by having him kill his pet dog with a fork, just because it was barking a little too much. The act was also to send a message to two men who walked in with unfavourable information during his dinnertime. The film’s treatment of history also follows a similar pattern, of landing a sharp fork at pages of history. Set amid the tumultuous period of the Vimochana Samaram (Liberation Struggle), led by revanchist forces against the land and educational reforms brought in by Kerala’s first Communist government in the late 1950s, the film’s protagonist is Pothan (Tovino Thomas), a strongman chosen by the Church to lead the ‘Christopher Sena’ to resist the Communists.

A precise sense of rhythm courses through the best of Ratheesh Balakrishnan Poduval’s works. Like a raconteur in full flow, he packs the narrative with intriguing events and funny throwaway lines that hardly cause the attention to waver. Even when some of the jokes don’t land, we remain engrossed and go with the flow. Yet, when his rhythm falters, as it does in the last act of Oru Durooha Saahacharyathil, we sense it too. Then it is just a matter of waiting for the inevitable train wreck. One of the reasons perhaps for the film going off track is its shape-shifting narrative, with the sudden turn in character in the last act not fitting well with what had transpired. It almost feels like a copout rather than something that would evolve organically from the story.

A dead body in the house can be one of the most horrific situations or a source of mirth, depending on the tone and treatment that a movie adopts. Mohiniyattam, which gently spoofs Drishyam, turns the situation into a hilarious affair, with periodic reminders of the dead man’s deceitful nature, supposedly to make us laugh without any sense of guilt. Sequels often end up as pale imitations of the original. But in conceiving a sequel to the mildly funny Bharathanatyam (which incidentally was a spoof of Balettan), Krishnadas Murali reimagines the original’s basic theme, injecting it with loads of dark humour and turning it into a markedly better film, like Vaazha 2 last week.

A little while into Vaazha 2: Biopic of a Billion Bros, one gets the feeling of being taken from one neatly engineered event to the next. Rather than one overarching narrative, the anticipation and excitement are all concentrated into shorter bursts, with each such sequence having an inherent rhythm, with a slow buildup and then a crescendo, when either all hell breaks loose or emotions overflow in a torrent, as it happens in the latter half.

How can a cinematic idea, which has been milked to its limits, be stretched further without seeming like the filmmaker is flogging a dead goat, er, horse? Bring in multiple timelines, make the same characters do the same things but in different time periods and maybe let these characters from various eras collide. Well, that is exactly what writer and filmmaker Midhun Manuel Thomas does with Aadu 3: One Last Ride: Part 1, the third instalment of the spoofy satire Aadu Oru Bheekara Jeeviyaanu (2015).